The best part of a bad year

After 26 years in the army, i retired and for the past few years have pursued other interests and avocations. Regardless of where i go or what i do, i always return in my mind to vietnam, and the "little people". maybe it is because i was young and comparativly unexposed. i had little idea what to expect when i arrived in ha thanh in western quang ngai that bright hot day in early 1970. the war had gone on too long, i had missed much of it by virture of being a deffered college student..but finally my time had come and i was there. the pre-deployment training was a blur and i felt terribly unprepared when i arrived at my final destination. the feeling of isolation was particularly acute given that my little MAT team had five americans including me, and the nearest round eye was some 15 miles away at firebase 411 with the americal division. me and my little team was to work with the battlion in the former special forces base at son ha or old a-104 and the hre tribesmen of the foothills around the son tra khuc valley. i noticed immediately that these troops were quite different than the ethnic vietnamese. their language was very different as were their clothes and house construction. i had retained the rudiments of the viet language having gone through a hasty course but was baffled by the hre tounge. what i shortly discovered and what was re-inforced almost every day of my tour was the unique quality of these humble, and by our standards primitive, yet most proud people. me with the college education and refined background learned daily the true meaning of dignity, self-sacrifice, and general humanity from these wonderful people. they were gracious, unswervingly loyal and hospitable, and models of integrity and genuine people. while i never did overcome my squimishness with some of their table faire, i also never failed to marvel at their willingness to share unselfishly the little that they had without question or expectation. i remember the times on patrol with maybe only one other american and a dozen or so of them that we'd make contact and be in a threatening situation. i never had the slightest doubt that they would protect me as they watched out for one of their own. they fought bravely and with initiative and courage.one old soldier, dinh de, had been with the french twenty years previous or so. when i was promoted to capitan, he always called me "mon capitan" vice "di-uy" or the viet version of the rank. he always stayed close by and was my guardian angel. i often wonder whatever happened to these wonderful people. many came to the us after a horrendious ordeal. i wonder if any of my old friends were with the group that is here somewhere. other refugees from nearby villages of tra bong and ba to came. i would dearly appreciate any information or contact. it's interesting as i don't recall co-worker of my profession at the pentagon some five years ago, but vividly recall these men from almost thirty years ago. dinh truc, my interpretor, with his gold inlayed tooth and dinh chua who was too old to fight but was a godsend around our little camp and a friend under all skies. yes, it was the best of a bad year.